


Hell Of A Day

by PenNameArtist



Category: Planes (Movies)
Genre: Fluff (kinda), Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort (kinda)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23291440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenNameArtist/pseuds/PenNameArtist
Summary: Uno-shot'o: Blade has to sit out for a day dealing with another of his lifelong sentence of migraines, and Wind steps in for one hellfire day. Honestly this could have been short enough to go in PttP, but nah.Part 2: The entry log directly following said incident, and my first ever Blade POV piece. It's weiiird.Part 2 1/2: I had fun beating the shit out of Blade because I'm a sadist and it's fun
Relationships: Blade Ranger/Windlifter, Dusty Crophopper/Blade Ranger, Dusty Crophopper/Windlifter
Comments: 22
Kudos: 25





	1. Hell Of A Day

It was going to be a bad day. Windlifter could see it in the weather patterns, Maru could sense it in the air, and Blade could feel it in his helm. Or maybe it was just something in the morning brew.  
Sleeping in, by any means, was next to nonexistent for the majority of the staff on the base. The only times anyone slept past their alarms - they all had their own, ranging from the usual 6:30 to Blade’s why-do-you-even-get-up-at 4:00 - was on the chance that they were sick, injured, or in some form unfit for work. Which meant… oh. _Those._  
Maru called them demons. Blade called it hell. Dipper simply referred to it as the brain's thoughts and emotions coming back to haunt...with an unquenchable rage.  
But migraines weren't as common as they used to be anymore. Actually, the lack thereof was somewhat recent, probably within the last year or so the tug suspected, though he'd have to dig through the off-time histories to be sure.  
For as long as he could remember, Blade struggled with migraines. Even as a child, he was subject to their torture. They'd been less frequent then, but they still happened at least a few times each year. Worse still were the few, three and counting to be specific, _cluster_ migraines that he'd endured in his youth. All of them occured within months of the loss of Nick. And all of them were _beyond_ hell.  
But it had been a while since anything bad had even popped up. Maru knew that Blade didn't actually tell them about _all_ of them - though he certainly had more than enough vacation time - because if there was even a chance that the chopper could work, he'd be out there with as much Aleve as he was allowed pumped through his system. Somehow he'd managed this long.  
But there were still treadfulls of incidents within his time on the base that he needed the day to rest and heal. Maru and Wind both knew full-well the red and white helicopter's headaches were no joke - they'd seen enough, and known him long enough, to know that it was, actually, _that_ bad. If helm pain could do worse than busted engine parts could, it was bad, especially for him.  
But the newly certified and war-coated SEAT, however, was unaware. It was only natural for him to come wandering into Maru’s workshop late that morning with the face of utter confusion.  
“Have you seen Blade?”  
“Windlifter’s taking over for now, just another one of those days.” Maru said, as though the quick-talked briefing was common and the other totally knew what he meant. When the crop duster still stood blocking his exit from the garage, it finally clicked in his head that he _didn’t_ get it.  
“Always forget that you’re still new here,” Maru said, more to himself than to the plane, “Sorry, Blade’s had to take the day off. Migraines are bad today.”  
The confusion on the aircraft’s face suddenly shifted into mild concern, “Oh, is he alright?”  
“He’ll be fine, it’s normal.” The forklift told him, “It ain’t gonna kill him.”  
“Well yeah, but he’s...out for the whole day because of it?”  
“Blade’s mind is kinda, how did the therapist say, _“fucked up”_ , if you didn’t notice.” Maru dead-panned.  
Though the red and white plane still felt lost and concerned for his chief, there wasn’t time for any more questions. The team was swarmed with calls all morning, so every chance he thought he’d had to ask if there was something he could do was lost, as the only thing he was asked to do for the day was his job.  
Windlifter did a fine job as a fill-in, though to him it seemed clear he wasn’t exactly “used” to being on the top seat. He was the type that wordlessly heeded a command from a trusted leader, not gave them. That talent required a certain level of wordability he hated having to tap into. Still, he was used to the job enough and used to hearing their chief in command enough that he knew what to do.  
The day never seemed to end. Where one spotfire ceased, another two emerged, and for every false alert they answered to, another real one followed. Even the pros were worn tired by the end of the day.  
“It feels like last July all over again..” Dusty said.  
The evening, thankfully, was the beginning of the end of the storm for them. The weather was beginning to cool off substantially as the heat of the sun went away, and the business of the Lodge died down as folks started to head back to their rooms for the night. Dusty finally had the opportunity to either ask or outright check for himself that Blade was alright, and would be back in service by tomorrow. Wanting to be careful, he went to ask Windlifter about it first, only to find the Sikorsky had _also_ seemingly vanished from the base.  
The former crop duster turned to the only place he thought the other might be, and upon seeing the silhouette of his form from the light in the room, he made his way down straight for the chief’s quarters.  
As he neared the open doors to the hangar, he could hear Maru’s distinct chuckle;  
“Heck, should’a seen the kid this morning, he’s been worried all day.”  
“I don’t blame him, he hadn’t known.” The familiar tone of Blade gave the crop duster a sigh of relief he hadn’t known he was holding. He rolled up beside the larger green Chopper, “Hey, sorry to intrude.”  
“You didn’t miss anything, just updating.” Maru told him.  
Blade was awake at least, though the crop duster probably wouldn’t put him much past that. He was still laying, landing gear tucked up, on his sleeping mat on the floor, and while he was plenty communicative, it was clear he was making an effort to move as minutely as possible. The light probably wasn’t helping.  
“Better after a bit or R&R?” Dusty asked.  
“Eh, it’s bearable again.” Was Blade’s reply, “But I can’t stay down forever. Wind, by the way, I seriously owe you one for today.”  
“A raise would be nice.” The Sikorsky responded, and if you squinted hard enough you could see the rise in the corners of his mouth at his sarcastic humor. The chopper was next-level.  
“I’ll consider it if the rest of the Board does.” the red and white helicopter replied, with the smallest jolt of a chuckle.  
“A’ight, well, if all’s well I’ll be signing off for the night then; Gentlemen-” Maru turned to face the three of them as he passed the doors of the hangar, and, putting on his best show voice, added, “Merry migraines to _all_ , and to _all_ a good night!”  
“I’ll pass, thanks!” Dusty added as the tug left.  
“I second that.” Windlifter said.  
“Third. And I have to deal with them anyway.” Blade said, shifting a bit in bed, “Think I’m gonna crash for the night too. Mind getting the light?”  
_*flick*_  
“Way ahead of ya.”  
“Night guys,” Dusty said, “See you tomorrow.”  
“Maybe.” Windlifter added.


	2. Hell Of A Day - The 2nd Half

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The same story, as told through a different perspective...

_It was going to be a bad day. Windlifter could see it in the weather patterns, Maru could sense it in the air, and I could feel it in my helm. Or maybe it was just something in the morning brew._  
I had never expected it would be this severe. It’s been so long since this has happened, and just in the last year their history has decreased in frequency and intensity by tenfold. But I suppose, like everything else, you can’t predict the future.  
I couldn’t tell you what ignited it. Usually, as we’ve learned, my particular patterns of migraines are the result of an extended period of stress - which explains a lot, and also doesn’t. As far as I’m concerned, this year has been a fairly mild one, especially compared to _last_ summer’s events involving the newest addition to the team. Certified as he is, Dusty still has a long ways to go.  
He also didn’t know about my “condition”. Maru had to explain it to him this morning after I’d already gone off to prepare for war. As caring as everyone is, some days if they’re bad enough, there’s nothin’ to do but go it alone and wait it out. And Maru’s not stupid - he knows how to devize team compromises, times like this. I’m endlessly grateful for them because of it.

I don’t have any time frame recordings this time around, thought I’ve usually been tracking them. Got too intense too quickly, and I didn’t have the energy to even look for the time until after the fact. Symptoms are all the same as usual and then some, taking into account this one’s sheer force.

**Rate:** 8.5/9 [fucking high]  
 **Timespan:** 12+ hrs (???)  
 **Prodrome:** 12+ hrs prior [fatigue & stiffness, concentration problems, insomnia (nothing new basically)]  
 **Aura:** heavy, about 30 min. prior [flashing lights & figures ( _again_ ), obscure color, overactive nerves]  
 **Main Symptoms:** light & sound sensitivity, heavy nausea & vomiting, dizziness, fluctuating temperatures [mostly cold but some hot too]  
 **Additional:** May have passed out once or twice, unsure; Controllable mild headache persisted the following 24+ hours

I really have forgotten how severe one good migraine can actually get. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to compensate with so much for so long. The sirens blaring outside didn’t help matters, but there’s nothing I can do about that. The day proved to be a pain in the aft for the whole team.  
I was actually surprised that sometime during the middle of it, I had a visit not from Maru, but Dynamite. I guess she’d been sent over in his place, but the exchange was the usual - personal talk aside.  
Some time after that and another few over-reactive reflexes later, the sirens finally went silent for the day. Maru and Wind both showed up not too long after to relay the day’s calls. Thankfully at that point I wasn’t still half-dead.  
Champ even showed up with concerns of his own. He still seems nervous and awkward around everyone, or maybe that’s just what I’ve seen, but he’s also young. He still reminds me far too often of the past, but I can’t blame him for that; his arrival here was purely a timely coincidence, and even if it wasn’t, I’ve done the math - he isn’t connected to them.  
Was damn happy to be out again the following day - I don’t care if I still have a remaining headache, I’ll be limping out to serve in the middle of an apocalypse before I take more than a single shift off from another migraine. These are my contributions to those I owe my time to now, damn it!

Assuming there’s not too much more hell to sit through the rest of this week, I might take the SEAT down to the fishing hole for once. I doubt Wind has brought it up yet, he keeps all his best fishing spots his own secrets. We’ll see how the rest of this blows over first. Who knows, maybe I’ll spill a story or two…

_Side Note:_ Bring up idea of a raise for Wind to the superintendent next meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but also content, so can we really complain there? XD


	3. Hell of A Day - Extra Extra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems everyone and their brother is beating the shit out of Blade in stories right now, and I wanted a piece of that action, so I'm jumping on the bandwagon with my own drabble. Bonus material for Hell of a Day, but not exactly a part 3. Also vaguely incomplete-feeling, but this was in the middle of the situation of Hell of a Day, so...hush.

Even in the dark with his eyes shut tight, the room Blade stood in felt like the inside of a ship being thrown around in a storm. Every time it felt like it was safe to look, another wave crashed down on their side, reeling them back into mindless oblivion.

Or, in Blade's current case, mindless amounts of pain.

It was a long time coming. There hadn't been a migraine surge like this in years, nothing even _close_ to it in the last six months. There was a literal fucking sledgehammer slamming into his helm from the inside _out_ , and he could do nothing more now than wait it out.

That didn't mean Blade wanted to go quietly, however. All that morning, he was pushing himself, knowing the coming signs, aware of the aura creeping into the corners of his vision. He took the heavy stuff he wasn't _supposed_ to be taking while on the clock, a med specifically catered to those category 5 hurricanes in his helm, but it still came barreling in like it hadn't even phased it. He still ended up trembling, sick in Maru's hangar, waiting for the mechanic to finish writing up a decent excuse for an emergency sick leave. He'd have gone and done it himself, if only he could function properly again.

He was sent off without a moment's hesitation from the seasoned mechanic, to which Blade begrudgingly went, holing himself up in his hangar for the day. He had barely gotten the blackout shades down before the next surge hit him, and it hit him hard.

The floor felt like it was being swept out from under him, and he stumbled back into his sleeping mat, landing gear tight and shaky under him as he tried to go down easy. He plopped down the rest of the way with an uncomfortable grunt; he didn't have the energy to adjust himself on the mat.

Without any other preparations made, Blade simply wished for it to come and pass, hoping if his eyes were shut tight enough, breathing were deep enough, and body were still enough, he would just fall asleep eventually.

Well damn, he'd been trying to do that for decades, even without a migraine, and that _never_ worked.

Still, he tried to convey the illusion to himself that everything would be fine again, so long as he didn't look, didn't move, didn't remember he was battling the storm. It hardly took the edge off of the pinching tightness in his helm, or the painful stabbing in his tanks.

Time crawled; he felt like it _had_ to be getting dark out by now, only to dare to peek at the clock and find it had been all of _one_ hour. _Fuck._

"Nnh.." A needle-fine pain shot through his tank, and he had to move - if only a smidge. That smidge was the difference, however, between tolerable stillness and ignited panic.

_'No, don't..no I don't want to…'_ He tried to tell himself, though he couldn't very well argue with his own body, _'I don't want to..don't make me, just settle why don't you, just SETTLE dammit!'_ But once he moved, that was all the indication his near-empty tank needed to force up whatever acidic residue it had left.

Things were bad. It had been a _long_ time since they were _this_ bad, to be fair, but that didn't change the here and now. The air boss seemed to have forgotten how truly cursed he was with these migraine days, but at least he was doing the best he can.

\-----

Four in the afternoon - so says the clock, anyways. Blade didn't feel like he had a concept of time anymore. Just a concept of suffering.

The hangar door clicked open, and the noise of it being rolled across its track echoed in the chief's head. Light spilled onto the floor, and he shut his eyes and looked away. He didn't even realize who had come in, until he felt a tire gently press against his side.

"Hey, how we doin'?" Dynamite asked, tone quiet and low, much to the helicopter's appreciation. Though, he feared he didn't show that gratitude well, only suppressing a groan in response,

"It's bad…"

"Were you already on the meds then?"

"Took 'em at...fuck… _nine_?"

"M, Okay...I'll ask Maru but it might need to be another hour before you can be allowed another dose."

Blade only nodded a slight response; he was at least glad Maru kept track of the math he didn't have the willpower to put together today.

"Anything I can do then?" Dynamite added.

"You know where that blanket’s at, in winter storage?"

"The blue?"

"With the patches."

"Yeah, I think it's up with the others, I'll go find it then. Back in a minute."

"Thank you.." Blade said, as the Smokejumpers captain left once more, sliding the door shut again and leaving him in somewhat silence once more. He shifted again as minutely as possible into his sleeping mat as a chill ran down his back, hanging onto the hope that this would all be manageable again by the end of the day.

**Author's Note:**

> -Fluffies and hurt/comfort things because writing Emergency is hard ;-;  
> -Surprising fun fact, not that it’s really all that surprising, but there’s actually a lot of connections to migraines and mental illnesses, and as I’ve made clear in Emergency (hopefully XD) Blade has a few underlying problems with mental stability, less so now, but so are migraines, so, ya know. :P


End file.
